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by Jadesfire2808 (Jadesfire)



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-22
Updated: 2009-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-05 00:07:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jadesfire/pseuds/Jadesfire2808
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Coming back to her people has not been coming home</i> [set during The Return Part 1]</p>
            </blockquote>





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**Author's Note:**

> With thanks to [](http://perspi.livejournal.com/profile)[**perspi**](http://perspi.livejournal.com/), [](http://donutsweeper.livejournal.com/profile)[**donutsweeper**](http://donutsweeper.livejournal.com/) and [](http://rustydog.livejournal.com/profile)[**rustydog**](http://rustydog.livejournal.com/).

Coming back to her people has not been coming home, in ways that have surprised Teyla, from the oddly spacious feeling of sleeping under a canvas roof again to the way that sounds carry differently in the village.

Everything is compared to the city, and as much as she would love to pretend otherwise, it is not a comparison that does her heart good. She is home, she has around her those who have known her almost all her life, and yet she now feels as though she has never really known them at all. At least Ronon can wear his restlessness openly; this is not where he is supposed to be and he does not care who knows it. For Teyla, nothing is so simple.

Her people feel so frugal and careful, more so than when she left them, more even than the Lanteans in her first year with them, making her use of the afternoon feel frivolous in the extreme. The fire needs careful tending to remain at a constant temperature, and she resists the urge to check every few minutes. This is not something that can be rushed. She has used almost two days' worth of wood, as well as the last of their Earth supplies on this; she will not see it ruined now. It is easier to justify frivolity than wastefulness.

"Ready yet?" Ronon is hovering in the opening of the tent, back from his endless roaming around the edges of the village.

"Soon." Allowing herself a moment's break, Teyla sits back on her heels.

"Smells good."

He does not say it, but Teyla hears the unspoken _better than usual_ and can't help the huff of laughter. Cookery is not a skill she has ever taken the time to acquire, and the satisfaction from managing even this simple task is worth the effort. She has been sitting here for so long that she hadn't really noticed the scent, and it is only the draft from the open doorway, stirring up the air inside, that makes her notice it.

She takes a deep breath. "They smell like..." The hesitation is brief, quickly covered. "They smell very good."

"They smell like the Mess." Letting the door flap fall behind him, Ronon comes in and starts pulling his coat off. "Too bad we don't have any coffee."

They'd drunk the last of it four days ago. Teyla turns back to the oven, blinking. "I think they are finished."

Talantha berry tea is not as good an accompaniment to the cookies as coffee would have been, but in some ways, that is easier. In Atlantis, cookies and coffee were for celebration, a treat for those returning from hard, painful missions. Rodney would claim a whole jug of coffee and John would try to see how many cookies he could steal before Ronon noticed. It had been a familiar, important part of their life. When she carefully lifts the tray from the fire, the wafting smell is a thousand memories of the home they have lost, and she has to blink hard as she sets the cookies down to cool.

Ronon fidgets as she makes the tea, impatient already, but his smile as he bites into the first cookie is worth any amount of waiting. Together, they eat the whole tray, pausing only to make another pot of tea. The warm center of each cookie almost melts in Teyla's mouth and the aroma lingers around the tent as they finish. It feels like the end of something, their last connection to the city finally severed.

Scooping up the last of the crumbs, Ronon throws back his head to swallow them, then lifts his tea in an Earth-style toast.

"To Atlantis," he says.

She gently touches her cup to his, forcing herself to form the word. "Atlantis."


End file.
